


THE REM TRIALS: Spiderman & Phantom

by vintage_grace



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Peter Parker - Freeform, spiderman - Freeform, tom holland - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2019-08-01 06:41:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16279598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vintage_grace/pseuds/vintage_grace
Summary: Lia Bright by day, the vigilante Phantom by night, and Tony Stark’s daughter in the shadows.Born a REM with shadow manipulation, Lia always knew what it meant to be different, but never out of control. That is until an accident screwed up all her plans, and her billionaire, Avenger of a dad moved her to New York to ‘help.’Of course, things never go to plan. Especially when Lia meets Peter Parker, and Phantom meets Spiderman, and both of their alter egos tangle as they walk the line between rivals, to allies, to something more in their separate worlds.Formerly titled: Burning Out





	1. welcome!

Hey! Whether you’re a new reader (or returning from the previous version of this story — Burning Out), I just wanted to say WELCOME! And thank you for reading this.

I have decided start rewriting this story. The reason for that is I wasn't entirely happy with how it was going and realized some major plot issues as I was going through what is currently up. (Also, there’s the glaring fact that Marvel already has a superhero named “Nova” which I found out a few chapters into the first draft of the story.) So, I wanted to fix this in a rewrite. The basic principles are going to be the same, but it will be different from the original. Hopefully everything will be a lot clearer and cleaner this time around. 

I plan to start uploading the new version soon and will be taking down some of the already uploaded chapters in preparation for the reboot. (The first reboot chapter will be posted soon!)

I hope to see you all there with the new launch! (and if you're interested in another Peter Parker story, I started posting another one called Siren's Sorrow! Feel free to go check it out)

 XX –V


	2. Chapter 1

Click. Click. Click.

The repetitive sound echoes throughout the lobby. I press my fingers into my temples to alleviate the annoyance and bubbling insanity from the past hour of this. A part of me can't help but wonder what all the people that pass by think of me. A teenager with a wrist cast and a glare pointed at anyone who dares to meet her eye.

Maybe mum was right to send me here. I know things have been rough since the incidents, but I suppose this was her best option. It's just hard to process. I haven't exactly been myself lately—and I'll be the first to admit my power is out of control. But that doesn't mean I'm not doing my best. Especially under everyone's expectations for me and my abilities.

Everyone thinks I'm going to be a hero—that I'll be something exceptional. They all think I'll live up to the names created for people like me. Names like ExtraOrdinary, inhuman, mutant, and—my personal favorite—Remarkable. Somehow, I don't think those terms quite describe me.

I tolerate Remarkable, but it's the only one that feels a little bit right. Nothing about me is 'normal,' and I don't mean it in the way most people do. I'm genetically different from the majority of humanity. Still, the ones like me were either born with abilities or had genetic markers that later enabled a scientific phenomenon to make them one.

In a way, both of those happened to me. My entire life, Mom always told me I'm special, which is one way to put it. Mostly because from the day I was born, everyone knew that there was something different about me. Of course, as a kid, I didn't quite understand. I thought that every kid could do what I could. The first day of pre-school was an abrasive life lesson on that matter. Because while other kids played with imaginary friends, I played with the shadows that molded into whatever I wanted or dreamed of.

Then the accident happened, and everything was turned upside down. I lost control. I lost control over everything and myself somewhere along the way.

It sends a deep ache in my chest and brings me back full circle to thinking maybe this is why mum sent me here ahead of time. She knows how much Dad has been helping me these past few months. Even with not meeting until I was twelve, we've become thick as thieves—especially recently.

He has been the only one who I feel like understand me and that I can talk to. It's hard to talk to someone about the nightmares, the haunting feelings, and the lack of identity. There's no one else who has been through anything remotely similar to me except him.

It took a while. Mostly because there's always been this distance between us. He didn't even know about me for most of my life, and when that changed, he already had a life and business. It took time for us to really connect and have time together.

Now, I'm sitting in the lobby of Stark Tower waiting to be picked up. Dad told me on the phone yesterday he had some big surprise waiting for me after I got in. My feet keep tapping out a beat that interacts with the receptionists keystrokes.

Anxiety keeps running through my veins with every minute that passes. Tony— Dad—was supposed to be here half an hour ago. Yet, time keeps ticking by with no sign of him. I keep glancing at my phone with a desperate hope that he'll call or text to say everything is perfectly okay. But each time I find nothing, my heart drops a little more.

Rushed footsteps break my string of thought, and I look up from my blank screen to see Tony looking frantically around. When he spots me, a wide grin spread across his face, which makes on creep across my own features. "There you are, bug. I'm sorry for being late, but I wanted to come pick you up myself."

A laugh escapes me as I instinctively tug down on my shirtsleeves and tuck my arms around myself. "It's okay, Dad. I'm just glad you're here." I let out a nervous laugh as I try to bite back the tears at finally seeing my dad after what feels like an eternity—even though it's only been a week. "I missed you."

"I missed you too, bugs." He tells me with arms stretched out to give me a hug before he thinks better of it. "Come on, we should get going. I'm sure you're tired, and I'm anxious to show you your surprise."

"As long as there's a way for me to nap. I'm all in." I retort with a grin and swing my duffel bag over my shoulder, which he eyes curiously. "Mum is sending the rest when she comes in a few weeks."

He just shakes his head and reassures me as we head out to his parked sports car. "Well, if you need anything before then, I can always get it for you, kiddo." I shake my head at him and watch him as we drive. 

It's really hitting me just how much I've missed him. These past few months have quite possibly been the worst in my life, but the chance to finally spend time with my dad makes it seem a little bit better. I can feel like I can breathe a little better. "What are you staring at, bug?" Dad asks me with his trademark grin.

"My dad." I tell him with a small chuckle. "I'm just really happy to be here with you. I've really missed you, Dad. Mum and I haven't been seeing eye to eye lately after the incident. Jim won't even look at me. It's nice to be around someone who understands."

"I may not get everything that's happened or you're going through, but I promise to be here for you. As for your mom, I'm sure she's just shaken up and unsure of what to do. She really loves you, bug, and she sent you here cause she thought it would be best for you."

"Yeah, that's what I keep telling myself." I mumble and stare down at my fidgeting hands. "It's just hard since we've always been so close." A single tear slides down my face, and I struggle to contain the rest. "What if she thinks I'm some sort of monster? Or some freak that can't even manage a sliver of control? I hurt my friend."

Dad sighs, and I can see the struggle on his face as he keeps himself from taking my hand. It hurts so much more that he can't. I mean, he could if he wanted a shock nearly equivalent to a lighting rod coursing through him. "I never got the full story on what happened. I'm not gonna pressure you into telling me what happened, but whenever you're ready, I'm right here."

"Depends. Which incident do you wanna hear about? The one that made people look at me with pity or the one that made them stop looking all together?" I know I'm being blunt and dour, but it's hard to be positive in these conversations. "Because trust me, neither of them are pretty or have a happy ending that I know of."

"Whichever one that talking about will make you feel better. I know you haven't had many chances to tell your side of the story lately. Plus, it's gonna be a long ride."

"Fine." I cross my arms and sink as far into my chair as I possibly can. "I don't know why you wanna hear more. I'm sure you've heard everything already. It was raining; Jim and I had an argument. He looked away for a split second and barely drifted into the other lane. Another car came, we swerved and went off the bridge. My tech went crazy, I blacked out, and end of story."

"Lia," Dad draws out the sounds of my name, which cues me to mentally prepare for dad mode, "we both know that's not the whole story. You only told me pieces in the hospital, but I know there's a whole lot more than that."

I close my eyes and try to not relive that moment. 'Try' being the key word; 'failing' as the end result. There's no fighting it, and I know that my mouth forms the words to describe one of the two worst nights of my life.

The rain was pouring down heavier than normal. I triple checked the tarp to make sure my project was entirely covered before we headed out. None of it could be exposed to the utter downpour outside. Jim patted me on the shoulder and reassured me it would all be fine.

I was so nervous. My design was an experimental redesign of my dad's clean energy system. The far-fetched hope with the science fair project is that in the future it could potentially replace fossil fuels entirely.

It weighed a ton in my arms as Jim led us out to his lended van from his work. Jim made sure to hold an umbrella over us to keep from getting sick. We both knew mum would murder us if we ended up with a cold. I just wish we had gone home sick that night instead of the alternative.

The battery seemed stable when we left. I even remember doing everything I could to make sure it wouldn't tip over when we turned. It was fine, but I kept turning to check on it the entire drive.

That's when we started arguing. I don't even remember what it was—probably just a stupid disagreement. Jim was just so angry. His knuckles went white as he gripped the steering wheel, eyes so full of frustration as he looked at me for that fraction of a second. The next thing I know, headlights are glaring through the windshield, another car was honking, and Jim swerved. 

It was so quiet like the world was put on mute all of the sudden. My stomach just dropped when I saw the water. I hit my head on the steering wheel when we made impact.

"After that, it was all freezing water and panic before I blacked out." I lie, but no one really knows the rest. Even saying that much out loud physically hurts. "The other one, I don't think I'm ready to talk about. Not sure if I'll ever be."

I rub my temples and nod at my Dad's gratitude and encouragements. Most of it is lost in the throbbing in my skull. "Hey, you know I'm proud of you no matter what. You know that, right?"

"Always, Dad." I tell him with a soft, pain-laced smile. "So—what's the big surprise?"

"Why don't you look out the window and find out?" He smiles and watches me in between glances at the road. I shake my head at him and stare out the window. The sight makes my jaw drop in surprise.

In front of me is the grand, looming white building of the Avengers facility that Dad talked so much about. My hand presses against the glass window, and I analyze every inch of the sight with a hungry gaze to take in every detail for myself.

The building glows against the darkening sky, and it sends a wave of awe through me. I know it was an old Stark facility, but whoever the architect was did a phenomenal job. "It's amazing." I whisper in complete wonder.

"Well, I'm glad." Dad tells me as he throws the car into park. "'Cause it's gonna be your home for a while. It would be a shame if you didn't like it."

My feet crunch against the gravel, and I suddenly wonder what life is going to be life here. School will start up fairly soon, and we're not exactly near the city—or anything really. Mum didn't give me many details, but the way things were put my assumption is that there won't be anything like that. No school, no social life, just training—all the time.

I push the thought back to worry about in the morning. For now, all I can think about is the plush mattress waiting for me and hours of sleep, but the thought keeps tugging at me. "C'mon, I'll show you to your room, then we can do a grand tour if you're up for it."

"Yeah." I force a smile on my face and sling my bag over my shoulder. "So—um—how long am I living here before we go back to the city? I mean, it's still a couple months until school, but I was just curious if we were going earlier to get settled."

Dad lets out a sigh and leans against the doorway as I drop my bags to the floor. "C'mon, bug, I know that your mom talked to you about it."

"I just—" I pause and tug my stretched-out sleeves down for the millionth time, "—I just thought that maybe you would change your mind, and I could go to school. You know, be somewhat normal."

"I'm not having this argument with you, Amelia." His voice grows angry, eyes almost closed in frustration, which is clearly evident in the use of my full name. "As for the other situation, the plan is for you to stay here."

"For how long?" I bristle and bite back in anger.

My dad visibly tenses at the question. "Indefinitely."

"Are you serious?" I shout, frustrated with the whole thing. "So I'm just trapped here 24/7 until further notice. Until I have whatever freakish new ability I didn't ask for under control? How is that fair?"

"It's not!" He shouts back; then when he realizes that his shouting only makes this worse, takes a second to calm himself down. I scoff, at least he knows not to trigger me further. "It's not fair, Lia, not to any of us. I just need you to work with me on this. I know this sucks, but we have to keep you here until you have yourself under control."

"To avoid further 'incidents,' right? And tell me something. Can we at least figure out a time frame? A deadline for me to work with?"

"We can talk about that when you calm down." He tells me without even a glance over his shoulder before he leaves and closes the door behind him. The frustration bristles against my spine, and I want to scream.

That is, until I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror; and I resort to pulling my hair more upset with myself for lacking control than anything else. It's been driving me crazy from the moment it happened.

I mean, when I was five and my shadow abilities started manifesting, it wasn't long before I could learn how to truly manipulate them in startling detail with a flourish and finesse. The energy bursts, those are something beyond me. They flare up with my highest emotions—joy, anger, anything that is overwhelming and powerful. Not to mention, no one can touch me without getting zapped. If they dare to, there has to be at least a hefty layer of something between us, but even then there will be a shock.

Still, if it wasn't for that, I wouldn't be here, which I'm not sure is a good or bad thing at the moment. Right now, my anger makes me want nothing more than to sneak out and screw the consequences. I settle for throwing my clothes into drawers until I can finally settle down enough to go outside and make a good impression on the team.

Especially because I'm going to be here for a long while.

"Stop it, Lia." I scold myself and snap the rubber band on my wrist. "Focus on something else. You can't let it take control."

My breaths are still ragged and uneven as the emotions and energy continue to build up beneath my skin. I try to tell myself to focus—on anything. The soft fabric of the duvet that covers my bed, the picture of Trish, James, and I at the festival, but none of it works to dispel the blinding flurry of buildup in my head.

I swear my heart stops for a second when I catch the glimpse of my reflection in the blank TV screen. Irises nearly filled with a gleaming silver despite the colorized contacts and a strange glow that seems to emanate from my skin. There's nothing else that runs through my head as I yank open my door and run—past the people in the kitchen and to somewhere safe.

The sounds of my panicked footsteps in the small stairwell fill my ears. My vision tunnels in front of me until all I see is the emergency exit doors and soon after, the wide open field. Someone shouts from behind me, and I barely manage to scream out a warning. "Please, stay back. I don't want to hurt you."

My feet lead me around the building, despite the deep ache that emanates from my bones. Tears build in my eyes as I falter for a second. All I can see in front of me is flashes of a London alley, the view from the windshield on the night of the accident, both which layer over one another in a blend of police lights and siren noises.

Pressure builds inexplicably beneath my skin and behind my eyes. I can feel the tears stinging tracks down my face. My own heart pounds out of sync with my struggling breaths; it threatens to give out under the pain and weight.

Then, all at once, everything turns cold and covered by a veil of shimmering white.

I've gone supernova again.


	3. Chapter 2

Bright, sterile, aggressive white lights greet me alongside the frantic beeping of the heart monitor. I open my eyes with a gasp and instantly screw them back shut. Everything hurts. It feels like someone dumped molten lead into my bones and left me to die from the pain.

My lungs start to constrict as the post-supernova panic settles in. The machine starts to beep more frantically as my heart rate picks up. Everything is fuzzy around the edges. I can't focus on anything as it all is lost in the giant haze of shadows and basic shapes.

A blanket drapes over my shoulders with a pair of strong arms holding it and me. "Deep breaths, Lia." Dad whispers into my hair. I focus on the sound of his voice, the scratchy sheets in my clenched fists, and the comfort of Dad's presence—anything to distract me from the raging pain in my skull and body.

"Good job. Just take a deep breath in and release." Dad coaches, and I struggle to follow event he simple instructions as he rubs calming circles on beneath my shoulders. "It's gonna be okay. You're okay now."

"No." I croak, my throat and voice raw. "I'm not. It's getting worse."

Neither of us speak as the words settle between us. Dad passes me my glasses without a word spoken or a look shared. We're too scared to talk about it, to admit the horrifying truth. Although, my need to know outweighs my fear. "How bad?"

"Twenty-feet, knocked out power for fifty." He lets out a heavy sigh. "You really had me scared there for a minute, bugs. You were out for nearly seven hours. How are you feeling now?"

"I'm—I'm fine." I stutter and tug at the wires connected to my body. "I just—just really need some air." Dad watches me as I practically run out of the room.

Everything aches and hurts. My head spins and each breath feels harder than the last. I collapse with my hands on my knees after having sprinted haphazardly through the maze of hallways.

Something twists in my chest, and I can feel the shadows pooling in the corners ready to embrace and aid me at a moments notice. My hand runs along the darkened areas of the wall, feeling the shift in energy pulsing beneath my fingertips.

It's like a drug in my veins, better than any kind of medication they could pump into me. After a long moment, my energy is beyond what it was before. The smell of cleaner fills my nose as I survey the large, open room. Inside is a wide assortment of equipment, from targets to punching bags, boxing rings to climbing ropes, and a multitude of things I can't name.

A part of me is drawn to the wide open space with the mat lined floor. It makes me miss my gymnastic days. The times when I spent every spare moment training, pushing myself harder in hopes of another medal, and then the rush of the competitions, even the disastrous ones.

Although, the memory draws up the things that sent me over the edge.

I shake my head to push it aside as I slip my socks off and test the give of the mats. It's been an eternity since I tried anything like this. Muscle memory takes over as I curl my toes and tap my foot against the mat. Once, run, jump, tuck, and twist. Just like it used to be, until the landing.

The second my right foot hits the mat, I crumble.

Pain radiates from my toes through my hip, and I can practically feel the healed fracture pulsing. I flex my jaw as I push myself back to my feet, beyond the pain. Maybe it was stupid of me to try one of my moves after so long, but I couldn't resist knowing if I still could. Now, I resort to a simple round-off and salto routine. It's not the same feeling of accomplishment; it's something though.

My thoughts are pulled back to reality by the slow claps that echo through the whole room. "Tony wasn't exaggerating. You are talented." I look up at the platform to see the one and only Black Widow, aka Natasha Romanov, one of my heroes. "Glad to see you up and at it. Your dad was worried when Cap brought you in after—whatever happened."

"Yeah, that was a bit of an accident," I mumble as I try to hide the tremor in my arms at the sudden panic and adrenaline that rises in my throat. This is one of the moments I've been so excited for but simultaneously dreading. Tony has told me so many amazing things about the Avengers, and their reputation has preceded even that. "I'm Lia, by the way. Although, I'm sure you already knew that."

"I did. Tony was bragging you about you from the moment he heard you were coming; plus, you look kind of like him." I try to hide my shock that he would actually think to mention me, but deep down, I know he's proud; he just has a complicated way of showing it. She smiles as she nods her head over her shoulder. "So, you ready to meet the rest of the team?"

A nervous laugh rushes past my lips before I can stop it. "Not really?" I tell her as I tug my sleeves over my fingers. "I don't really want to deal with the looks. I'm pretty sure I haven't made the best first impression. Arguing with Tony, blowing up—literally, and—yeah."

"Trust me, most of us haven't made very good first impressions. You have nothing to worry about, Lia." Natasha smiles at me, and for a split second, I believe her. Maybe they won't hate me, or stare, or think of me as some anti-social, gifted, freak. "Come on, I'm sure they're just as anxious to meet you as you are them."

I feel my lungs scrunching up as I follow Natasha through the winding hallways to the common area reserved for the Avengers. Dad is already there, likely waiting for me, and offers me an encouraging smile. I try to return it, but there's still the argument lingering between us.

Luckily, other people start to take notice of my presence. Steve smiles at me as he sets the towel down on the counter and turns his attention away from his cooking. "So, this is the famous Lia, I suppose?" He asks my dad, but his attention is on me the whole time. I try not to let my smile fall when he extends a hand, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Lia. I'm Steve."

My shoulder instinctively curls forward as I once again pull my sleeves over my fingers. "I'm sorry I really can't—I can't shake your hand," I explain with a sad smile, but he doesn't seem fazed by it. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Rogers—Steve." I correct myself. "I've heard quite a bit about you. All of you actually."

"Well, they've heard every good thing imaginable about you," Rhody calls as he stands next to Steve. "Tony wouldn't stop bragging about his brilliant daughter."

"I prefer the term 'exceptionally gifted,' but I suppose brilliant Will do." I retort with a smile; a sliver of tension rolling out of my shoulders. "It's good to see you again, Uncle Rhodey."

"Come on, Lia. Let's get you acquainted with the rest of the team." Nat interrupts as she and Steve walk me around the quarters making sure I get the chance to become acquainted with everyone. Within minutes of the first introductions, they all make me feel like an integral part of the team.

"Your dad mentioned you had abilities?" Wanda asks as we sit together on the couch once everyone has gone back to doing their own thing. It's obvious that she understands the emotions I've been attempting to shield away. There's no ounce of fear in her as she reaches out and places a hand on my shoulder. It takes everything in me not to freak out at the gesture as she asks, "Do you mind if I ask what they are?"

"Not really," I tell her, feeling more confident and comfortable around someone whose abilities could be relatives to my own. Not to mention the lack of fear that she displays; she doesn't see the danger, just me. 

It brings a smile to my face as I wonder if maybe this is what it would have been like to have a sibling. "I—um—how do I phrase it? I manipulate shadows and their energies. They Will change based on what I want them to be, solidify, evaporate, whatever I want. It'd probably be easier to show you sometime." I whisper as I nervously check where everyone is in the room and adjust my glasses.

Wanda nods, clearly intrigued, but her eyes are patiently waiting for the rest of the truth. "What about the power you're hiding from? The one that caused a crater outside and you to be so scared?" She questions after a long moment of silence as she drapes her arm over the back of the couch. "Trust me, Lia, I know what it's like. Word of advice, you can't let that fear control you; if you do, there Will be nothing left of you in its wake."

"What else am I supposed to do with a literal explosive power that I can't control or understand? I've hurt people, and I'm terrified it Will happen again." I tell her as I pick at my nail polish, which throughout the day has receded to the edge of the nail bed. "Everyone wants me to get better at handling it, but none of us can even explain it. I get upset, the emotions consume me and with them that—energy, and the next thing I know, I've gone supernova. I'm like a dying star. I live fully and brightly until one day I become too much for myself and go out in a blazing burst."

"I don't think it's scary. In fact, I think it's beautiful."

"You wouldn't think that if you were there when—" the alleyway flashes into my mind for a split second, which snuffs out the words before they reach my tongue. "—never mind."

"At least you're here now. You're part of the team, and we Will do everything we can to help you learn and grow. I never saw myself here, but I am and happier than I ever thought possible."

"Maybe I'll be just as lucky," I reply before chaining the subject as some of the other team members start to join back into the conversation.

I look around the room, taking in the faces of the people who are now going to become my trainers, friends, and who knows what else. All that I know is I hope all of us can make it through in one piece, but only time will tell.


	4. chapter 3

_Three Months Later_

"So," Steve asks in between breaths and the pounding of our feet against the pavement, "I hear you convinced Tony to let you go to school? That's quite a feat. You excited?"

"It's a mix of emotions. On one hand, I'm excited to not be trapped in the facility anymore, but it's also terrifying to have to start from scratch this late in the semester. Then, if anyone finds out who my dad is—I'm screwed."

Steve slows down earlier than usual for our morning run, and I try to hold back a sigh knowing he's about to go into the same mode my dad does when giving life advice. "Look, kid. It's gonna be fine. My advice is to just go in there and be yourself. If it doesn't work out, I'm sure you can show them a bunch of reasons why they're wrong."

I let out a laugh and push my sunglasses up on my sweaty face. "Well, either way, I have to get ready. Can't be late on the first day." Steve just smiles and shakes his head as he continues the rest of our routine run without me.

Although, now that I think about it—everything about my previous schedule is going to change. No more morning runs with Cap, training with Natasha and Wanda, meals with Dad, or meditative debates with Vision. I'm going to miss it.

"You ready, bugs?" Dad asks as he looks up from whatever he's reading on his tablet. "Or would you want to go grab you patrol gear so you can just hit he streets right after school?"

My stomach drops at the accusation—mostly because it's true, and it means he knows. "I—um—I should probably explain. Yes, I've been patrolling as Phantom, but I promise I've been careful. It's just—I've done so much damage these past months, I wanted to know that I did something good—something to help people instead of destroy them.

"Plus, when I'm out there, I feel like I can breathe again. You know, for the longest time, I wondered why I was given these gifts, if I was meant to use them or if it was just an accident. But they can be used to help people, and I want to do that. I just—I probably should have talked to you first."

"You're right, you should have." Dad lets out a sigh as he stands. "But, I can't be mad at you for being my daughter. So we'll talk about this after school. Okay? Just know you're not in too much trouble."

My head snaps up so fast that my glasses nearly fly off, which gives me a painful flash of light. I wince for a second and look at Dad with scrunched eyes. "Really? You're not mad?"

"No, I'm mad, but I'll learn to get over it if it means you'll be safer and happier with my help. Because I know there's no stopping a Stark when we put our minds to something." He tells me with a soft smile and hands me my bag. "Now, go have a good time at the new school. Just don't mention being a Stark, it's not safe if people know."

"I know, Dad. Don't worry, I'll be fine." I reassure him with a kiss on the cheek. Although, it does nothing to ease my own nerves. They continue to rattle in my chest and make my leg bounce in the front seat of the sports car Happy's driving me in.

It's terrifying. A new school means people asking questions, a whole new round of awkward conversations before friendship, and so many secrets to keep from everyone. I suppose it's the price I have to pay to have a slice of normal again.

"Alright, here we are—Midtown School of Science and Technology." Happy states as he parks. "You know the rules, right? Call if you have an attack, no Stark talk, and text updates to your dad every hour."

"Make friends, and don't sass the teachers?" I tease with a soft grin that hopefully hides my nerves. "Don't worry about me, Happy. I promise to call if there's  _any_  problems."

Of course, I don't think that not knowing where the office or any of my classes are qualifies as a proper problem. Nevertheless, it's the main issue I face as I walk into school. I don't even bother trying to ask someone for help as I extend my walking stick to warn people and hope they get the message to stay out of my way.

"ARTI, pull up the school blueprints and calculate a path to my locker and classes based on the information the school sent last week." I whisper and push up my glasses to reduce any risk of stray light. Sure enough, it's only a second before the floor plans for the whole school light up across my lenses, a path traced in bright red through the masses of students, who all stare and whisper at me as I pass by them.

My support cane is nearly knocked out of my hand more times than I can count on the way, and I make a point to 'accidentally' smack the back of as many legs of the perpetrators as I can.

491\. I smile to myself at the small victory of finding my locker and rest my head against it. The chill of the metal feels like a blessing against my forehead. "Excuse me," a voice interrupts my moment of peace and eavesdropping, and I hum an acknowledgment, "are you the new girl, Amelia Bright?" I glance over to find a boy likely my year reading my name off a torn piece of paper.

"It's Lia, actually." I retort as I turn my attention and head to the owner of the voice. "Only my mum calls me Amelia, and even then that's when she's about to start a row."

The boy lets a small, choked laugh escape him. "My mom does that when she's mad too." He pauses for a second before catching on to his faux pas. "Oh, right, I'm Ned, Ned Leeds." He shifts his books in his arms and extends a fist out to me.

I stare at his hand. It's a simple gesture, but it sends a wave of anxiety rolling over me. My training over summer has made sure that I have enough control to manage no harm to her. Still, fear keeps me from doing so. "It's nice to meet you, Ned, Ned Leeds," I tell him and try to pretend he didn't offer his hand as I once again tug at my shirtsleeves. "I'm Lia, but I think you know that. To answer what assume will be your next question, I'm from Kingston. South London, as most Americans would know it."

"I was wondering where the accent was from." Ned pauses and looks around as if there will be a conversation topic scrawled on the walls or motivational posters plastered everywhere. "Do you mind if I ask why you moved here? And what the glasses are for?"

I mentally stutter in an attempt to figure out how to phrase it without sounding like a lunatic. "My dad lives here," I tell her quietly. "My mum thought it would be nice if we were closer. Plus, it was a great opportunity for my step-dad's career. So they're working on moving out here too. Next answer is the glasses are to help me see. They're just tinted since my eyes can't handle much light, and if there's too much I can't see anything more than blobs. Hence the cane too."

Ned responds with some acknowledgment that slips my notice along with the other things that he chatters and weaves us through the hallways. "Here's your homeroom. And if you need any help throughout the day, just find me around or in one of the classes we share." He smiles brightly and waves goodbye. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Lia."

I reply half-heartedly as I adjust my notebooks and slip into the back of the classroom. All the while, I keep wishing that of my mates from back home were here with me. Trish and Will always made things seem so much better. I suppose I'm used to them drawing the attention from myself. If only I could slip into the shadows as I do as the Phantom.

Actually, I would much prefer to be the Phantom for a multitude of reasons. At least she has the privilege of hiding behind a mask. No one questions her motives, stares at her like a zoo animal, or makes her feel out of place. When I'm Phantom, I'm confident and free. Here, as Lia, I feel like nothing more than a new kid who doesn't know anyone.

It seems to show like a sign plastered across my forehead. As I slip into the room, a couple groups go silent to watch me as I walk past. Likely, they're wondering why there's a new student a month and a half into the semester. The whispers and hushed speculations follow me all the way to my seat in the back.

I keep my head buried as I flip open my notebook and pretend to be occupied so no one will speak to me. It doesn't work as well as I hoped though. A small group from a few seats ahead of me turn with smiles and questions brimming out to them. "Hi," one of the girl states with a too sweet smile that makes me slightly nauseated, "I'm Carter. Are you the new girl?"

"Something like that." I retort with a painful effort to minimize my accent as I turn my attention back to my notebook.

"O-M-G. I love your accent!" She practically squeals along with most of her friends, and my eyes roll so violently I half expect them to pop out of my skull. "So where are you from?"

"Kingston—South London to Americans," I tell her with a forced smile and try to politely end the conversation by focusing on my notebook.

Still, she finds a way to keep talking. "So you're a Captain America fan? I'm guessing from the patch on your bag. That's kind of funny since you're not even American." I try not to sigh at the assumption that because I didn't grow up here I'm not a citizen and the failed attempt at a joke. "I'm an Iron Man girl myself." She states with pride.

It takes all my self-control to not cringe or throw up as she continues to fawn and obsess over each Avenger. I zone out fairly early in, but she doesn't seem to notice.

By the time the bell rings, my head physically hurts, and I practically run before Carter gets the chance to latch on any further. Mostly because I highly doubt I could form a friend or even acquaintanceship with someone who finds my dad attractive—or  _sexy_  as she repeatedly put it.

I get so lost in my quick escape that I barely notice Ned waiting in the hallway until I run into him. "Woah. Everything okay?" He questions as he takes a step back to avoid another collision.

"Yeah, I just spent the last hour with a girl who called me  _Clara_  and spent a solid five minutes discussing the 'travesty' of my fashion sense, while  _pretending_  to be stupid," I explain and finally let my shoulders relax. "Sorry for running into you by the way. I was in the middle of a quick escape."

"Oh, trust me, I get it. One time Carter and her gang tried to convince me of the 'importance of  _never_  wearing stripes,' even though I clearly rock them." He lifts his voice up an octave as he imitates them and before I can think better of it, a genuine laugh escapes me, which leads to a very un-charming snort. I instantly cover my mouth in embarrassment, but Ned only smiles and laughs it off.

A natural silence falls between us as he helps me find my way through the labyrinth of hallways. "Wait—" he questions as we stop outside my next classroom. "—you're in a Senior English class? I thought you were the same grade as me."

"I am, but my credits from my old school weighted differently. So they put me in a couple higher classes and AP to compensate." He nods in understanding, and I take a glance at my printed schedule. "So what classes do we share? I'll admit it's rather boring having no one to talk to."

Ned seems to brighten at the comment and beams as he points to various classes. "Pretty much from here to the end of the day, but not English or French—I'm taking Spanish. Also the end of the day, I have Gym there."

"Oh, I'll see you there too. I'm  _technically_  a part of the class, but they weren't sure if I could be so they didn't add it until recently. I'm just restricted from certain activities."

"Why?" It's an innocent question with only curiosity and maybe a sliver of concern behind it. Still, I can't tell him—or anyone—the truth. It would ruin everything, and I'd be right back where I was before and lose my fresh start.

I try to hide the stutter in my response and plaster on a tense, sad smile as I whisper, "It's a long story." Ned nods and waves goodbye as I head into class. A part of me wishes that he knew just how long of a story it really is. I just wish I could say it was nothing more than healed fractures and lingering problems of a car accident, but it would just be another lie.

Still, if anyone did know the truth, they would never look at me the same. But oh, how I wish someone would.

I lost track of everyone I had met about three classes in. It all became a giant haze of names, feigned interest, and forced smiles. There were a few genuine people I met though, the two main ones being Ned and Liz.

Although, it made a small predicament at lunch when I couldn't find either of them and was unsure which I was looking for. I try to keep my head from spinning amidst the noise and chaos of the cafeteria. No one pays me any attention as I slip my way between the tables and cliques until I find a place in the corner where no one is going to notice me.

"Lia!" Someone calls out only moments after I sit down. "Why are you eating by yourself? Come on, I saved you a seat." Liz smiles as she picks up my tray and walks away with it.

A small, nervous chuckle escapes me as I push up my glasses and follow her. She stops at a table at the opposite end of the cafeteria, which directly opposes the popular narrative of nearly every film involving high school. "Guys, this is Lia. Be nice." She teases as I take the seat beside her. "Okay, basic facts out of the way, Lia just moved here from England. She's a sophomore, is completely brilliant, and—" She looks to me for confirmation. "—I think that's most of it."

I nod and smile at her initiative to spare me the usual round of questioning. Although, it doesn't make me want to shrink into oblivion any less. The group around the table is a mix of guys and girls, who clearly rule the school. It's the kind of group that we used to laugh about back home, the ones that were rarely authentic with each other and people could fade away inside without anyone noticing.

Now, it seems like the kind of group I could use to my advantage. The one with people who won't push or ask questions about my past. It might mean nothing beyond superficial bonds and fake smiles, but sometimes you need to pretend to be someone else to make it. So I memorize all their names and pretend to be another version of Lia, one who hasn't lived through her worst nightmares and survived, but who never had to face them at all.

Who knows, maybe it's better this way. Maybe I'll just fade away with no one noticing until it's too late.

Except, by the time Chemistry rolls around, I'm starting to question that train of logic. It doesn't help that Chemistry is the subject made me want to drive nails into my hands instead of studying it. Because unfortunately, my love and skill for science seem to have skipped this field in particular. It makes the mere idea of being trapped and forced to study it for an hour everyday nauseating. My only hope is none of my 'new friends' notice me turning green right now.

I rest my forehead on the cold surface of the lab counter. The truth is, it's not just chemistry making me feel ill. This was always a subject that Jim and  _Henry_ used to help with, before everything of course.

Flashes of that London alley threaten to make an appearance along with lunch, but I force them back down as I feel a tap on my shoulder. The absence of the chilly countertop against my forehead feels like the tug of a blanket off in the morning, and I try to keep my face from showing the annoyance I feel coursing through me at the interruption.

The feeling fades a little bit when I see Ned smiling at me, with concern clearly written in his eyes. "You okay? I didn't see you at lunch."

I manage a nod. "I'm fine—just tired, and I actually at lunch with Liz and her friends."

Ned's eyes widen at the mention of her. "You had lunch with Liz Allen?"

"Yeah. She's in my Lit class; she's cool." I tell him with a small chuckle as he tries to gain his composure. "You wanna sit?"

He shakes his head and points to a table diagonally from mine. "Nah, I'm already lab partners with my friend, Peter." Then his eyes light up as he gets an idea. "Oh, I totally forgot to introduce you." He looks around the room in search of the boy and quickly calls his name once he spots him coming in.

"What's up, Ned?" The boy questions, absolutely oblivious to my presence here.

"I wanted you to meet the new girl, Lia." He tells his best friend with a knowing smile, and I can't help but feel this is a bit of a setup.

My heart lurches in my chest and stomach drops to the floor when he turns to face me with wide eyes. Large brown eyes tracing over the details of my face, hair fixed back perfectly, and a too big Midtown sweatshirt covering his arms.  _At first glance, he looks just like Henry_. "Oh, um, hi. I'm Parker. I-I mean, I'm Peaker—Peter."

"It's nice to meet you, Peter," I whisper back trying my best to not let my nerves show too much and push down the approaching memories. The attempt fails miserably, and I slip my phone out of my pocket as I practically run out of the room. "I'm sorry. I have to go."

The hallways are nearly empty, and no one pays me any attention as I rush out the front doors and collapse on the front steps with my head on my knees. "ARTI," I whisper through heavy breaths, "send a signal to Dad."

"Yes, Miss Bright." The program replies. "Mr. Stark has been notified."

For once, I actually appreciate Dad's stupid regulations, rules, and safeguards as the tears start to trail down my cheek and my chest tightens. The school's front door closes with a thud, and I furiously wipe my face as I turn to see who it is. Peter stands there nervously, breathing deeply like he ran the whole way after me. "I'm sorry. I just—you looked—are you—are you okay?" He questions as he carefully steps closer to me.

"Not really, but I will be." I sigh and wrap my arms around my stomach forcing my breaths to even out and tears to stop. "I'm sorry if I worried you. It's nothing really."

"Doesn't seem like nothing. Do you want to talk about it?"

"Won't you miss Chem?" I question, looking for any excuse I can find. He just holds up an old battered clipboard with the words 'HALL PASS' messily scrawled across in black sharpie over a multitude of other phrases and doodles. "Why do you care?" The question comes off harsher than I intended, and even I cringe at the sound of it.

"Because, like my Uncle always told me, 'if you have the chance to be a help, do it.'"

"He sounds like he was a caring guy," I mumble as I slide my phone back into my jumper pocket. "It's a long story, but—um—you reminded me of someone I knew back home."

Peter shifts uncomfortably at the statement, but he doesn't leave. "Why did that make you upset though? Is he—?"

"No, he's not gone. Not really, at least." I fiddle with the edges of my jumper and think over whether or not this is a good idea to tell an almost stranger this. There's just something about Peter makes it feel safe and natural. Maybe it's just that he looks like Henry, but it feels like something more. "I'd rather not talk about it. Trust me, it's not a fun or pretty story, and I don't enjoy telling it. So, let's just leave at it didn't end well. Henry ended up in the hospital with a concussion and suffered a nervous breakdown. He hasn't been the same since."

"Wow." Peter sighs and a rough laugh escapes me. "Sorry, I just—that's gotta be tough."

"You learn to live," I tell him. "You have to." An average black sedan tears into the parking lot, and I sigh. "That's my ride." I whisper mournfully as Happy quickly rushes out with worry and concern painted on every inch of his face.

"You okay, kid?"

"Yeah, I just—had a small panic attack," I tell him with a tired shrug.

"I'm gonna go let them know I'm taking you back." Happy insists and sidesteps me as he heads inside, likely to speak to the principal with an excuse about my 'condition.'

"Crap," I whisper. Here goes my chance at school and a normal life. I turn to Peter and find he's already looking at—studying me. "Thanks for listening and helping me calm down." I tell him with a smile. He likely helped me avoid another supernova moment.

"Not a problem." He smiles and waits for Happy to return before he leaves. Although, as I'm walking to the car I hear him call my name. "Will you be back tomorrow?"

"I hope so," I tell him and smile. "See you around, Peaker."

His cheeks turn a deep shade of crimson at the nickname, but I quickly lose sight of it as Happy nudges me into the car. I offer him one last glance and a half-hearted wave. Happy seems to notice based on the look he's giving me, but he still doesn't say anything.

Dad immediately pounces when I walk in the front door with Happy. "What happened? Are you okay?"

I wrap him up in a hug to silence the endless array of questions and mostly because, at this moment, I just need my dad. "I'm okay. I think I was just scared and overreacted." I mumble into his shirt.

Although, I leave out the fact that he overreacted too. A flare in our system is supposed to mean a phone call to check-in, not sending Happy in for a rescue mission. I suppose we've both been on edge though, and I'm far too tired too drained to argue. "Don't worry. A—" my mind stutters when I try to find an adjective for Peter Parker, the boy I only met a few hours ago. "—a friend helped me out."

Tony raises his eyebrows at the word, clearly interested and intrigued. "See? I told you, you'd have no problems making friends. Just remember—"

"—no boys." I finish for him. "Well,  _boyfriends_."

"Exactly, you're too young to be in a relationship." He steps away as he speaks and looks for something as he continues. There's a pause as he states the next phrase. "Not to mention the danger and  _complications_." Aka being a REM and honorary Avenger.

"I know." It comes as a whisper because of the growing lump in my throat. There's no ignoring the truth, I'm a danger to myself and am bound to attract even more. Still, despite the lack of romantic interests and prospects, I wonder. "How do you do it? You and Pepper, I mean. How can you handle living with what's happened and even begin to share that with someone else?"

He gives me a weak smile. "It's been a rough, complicated road, but we manage." He sighs and turns to me with a look I've never seen before. "It helps that she makes me a better person,  _and_  a better dad." I return his soft smile as he places his hands on my shoulders. "I know I've made mistakes and haven't been the best at this, but I want to get better.

"Sometimes, you're so independent and willing to put yourself in danger that it terrifies me. I'm scared that I won't always be there to protect you when you need it most. So, I overreact,—kind of like today." I try to bite back the bittersweet smile that threatens to appear at this admission. "You're a better kid than I give you credit for. Just lay off the midnight patrolling for a while? I need to figure a few things out before you go back, and I need you to bear with me while I figure out how to be a proper dad.."

I shake my head, which causes Tony to frown in obvious concern. "You already are. Sometimes I think we forget that we're both a bit new to this dynamic, and if anything, I'm sure we both have a lot to learn about each other. So, I propose we agree to give each other some leeway."

He smiles and nods. I've realized over these past weeks amidst all the preparation for school that he never got the chance to learn. Mum kept me a secret from him for eleven years of my life; even after that, she tried to minimize any potential damage.

Yes, neither of us has made it easy on the other, but there's a learning curve involved with being a parent and a kid with our baggage. It certainly doesn't help that I spent most of my life thinking my Dad never wanted me or cared, but the truth was he did—even if he never knew I existed or realized it yet. Looking into the eyes that I inherited, I can see he's thinking the same thing.

"Sounds like a plan to me, bug." I let him pull me into a tight hug, far to exhausted and in need of comfort to protest, even against the nickname, he knows I hate. "Go rest up. You've had a long day, and you've got school again tomorrow."

I pull away from him, surprise surely etched into my features. "Wait, you're not going to pull me out?"

He just laughs at the idea. "It's like you said, there's a learning curve. I'm trusting that you can handle it, but—" His gaze turns deathly serious. "—if it seems like you're struggling to balance everything; I Will."

I know there's something else he's not telling me. It's all in his eyes; either a childish glimmer or a shadow. Whatever it is, it must be good. Because he looks like a kid on Christmas ready to burst at the seams.

As if he can sense my growing curiosity and apprehension, Dad just pats me on the head, which he knows I loathe, and says, "Don't worry about it. You'll see soon."

"Okay." The last syllable drags out as I trudge out the room and towards blissful rest. Still, even as I lay down and let exhaustion take over, my mind still reels wondering what my dad could be hiding.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay... this is just a quick announcement:  
> The title is a working progress, so bear with me on it. (or feel free to make a suggestion as the story progresses)


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